Day 052: Wednesday 7th November, 2012
Clear-Air Turbulence (Minnesota)

"Oh my god, Prince. We have to watch this, Blaine, we have to!"

"You're getting no argument from me."

"Okay, so, Minnesota: Purple Rain. Onto Iowa..."



"Oh my god," Blaine wheezed between bouts of laughter. Kurt was still splayed out on the shiny, waxed wooden floor in front of the lane, holding his stomach and eyes watering from his own giggles. "This was the best idea ever."

They were at the Bryant Lake Bowl in Minneapolis, a curious place that somehow managed to be a restaurant, bar, theater, and bowling alley all at once. They had most of the bowling area to themselves, the only other people there a group of six hipster-looking students occupying the lane at the far end. Upon setting foot inside, Blaine had immediately fallen in love with the atmosphere of the place, understanding straight away why it was listed as an LGBT hangout.

For Blaine, it was an escape—a way to get out of his head and cut loose for a while without having to think too much about anything. It had all gotten to the point of being too intense, and he'd mostly gone beyond wanting to hash it out, because what was the point? Obviously, Kurt wasn't ready for a relationship of any kind—and that was fine, because Blaine wasn't asking for one. Particularly not now.

By sleeping with Max, Kurt had given Blaine the reality check he'd sorely needed, and now they could just move forward in the way that they needed to. They were friends first. Everything else had to come second.

"Okay, okay," Kurt said breathlessly, struggling to his feet and brushing off the seat of his pants as he looked at the pins down the lane. "Did I even hit any?"

"Gutter ball," Blaine called out around a chuckle, raising his voice to carry over the music playing in the bowling alley—a shuffled loop of the new Mumford & Sons album that Kurt and Blaine had both learned by heart over the course of the past month.

"What was it again?" Kurt asked as he came over, walking in time with the beat of Holland Road, and Blaine glanced down at the dog-eared laminate titled, 'BLB Crazy Bowl.'

"One-Eyed Jack," he said, "You have to turn around twice, cover one eye with your hand, and bowl. That's how you ended up on your ass."

"Right," Kurt replied, blue-green eyes sparkling with some of that light Blaine had been missing in them. He bent over the scorecard and examined it briefly. "Look who's winning. Two games to one."

"So strange, especially since I haven't beaten you since we were sixteen," Blaine commented, prodding him gently in the ribs and leaning up to speak against his lips, "Stop letting me win."

Kurt sashayed away with a wink and a wiggle of his hips, retrieving another bowling ball as he went, and Blaine bit his lip against a grin as he thought, There you are. I missed you.

Blaine watched him follow the instructions from the laminate, rapidly spinning twice in a way that looked again as if the music itself was his partner in a dance. Instead of covering only one eye as the card had instructed, he covered both and sent the ball rapidly spinning into the gutter—sure enough, he ended up falling on his ass for the second time in a row. His bright, musical peals of laughter were infectious, and Blaine leaned on the backs of chairs for support as he staggered over to help him up.

The group of teenagers at the other end of the alley were dancing and spinning one another in time with the song's stringed refrain, and as Blaine held out a shaking hand to help Kurt up, Kurt glanced over at them.

"Dance with me," he said, and Blaine complied immediately. It was almost too easy to assume a loose waltz position, letting Kurt lead them around in a slow, smiling dance that was more a shuffle of their feet than any discernible step. He dropped his head to rest on Kurt's shoulder, inhaling the scent of his cologne and letting the music carry his heavy limbs.

With Kurt humming along to the vocalizations over the strings, the vibrations tickling Blaine's cheek, he was at once struck by the unfairness of the situation, this state of in-between, of together-but-not. Should we even have started this? he wondered, a fleeting thought full of regret, but regret of what? Of starting, or of not starting soon enough? Because the thing was, Blaine would be Kurt's in a heartbeat if he asked. He was already Kurt's, and Kurt was... Wasn't Kurt his, too?

"I've missed us like this," Kurt murmured, reminding Blaine that no, Kurt wasn't his—he'd gone out of his way to prove it in Chicago. And Blaine had done nothing to stop it, when he so easily could have. He'd practically given Kurt his blessing. Lips brushing the outer shell of Blaine's ear, Kurt sang, "And I'll still believe, though there's cracks you'll see."

But of course Kurt was his. Kurt was his but refused to believe it, and though it was a supremely ugly feeling, it pissed Blaine off more than he could stand.

Abruptly breaking their hold and without meeting Kurt's eyes, he asked, "Can we get out of here?"

Kurt paused, hands slowly falling to his sides, and said, "Sure. Let's go."

They'd left the R.V. in the small, mostly empty parking lot behind the Bowl, and Blaine wasted no time in jumping into the driver's seat. He was pulling out before Kurt had even closed the passenger side door, and sighed inwardly in gratitude when Kurt remained silent.

It was a mere five minute drive to the waters of Lake Calhoun, a straight line up Lagoon Avenue, but to Blaine it felt unending. Anger was charting a fiery path through his veins and he needed to be near the water, to be able to look at it moving under the light of the half-moon and let its perpetual, unchanging ebb ground him again. It wasn't Maine, it wasn't the ocean, and it certainly wasn't getting answers to all of his unasked questions, but it would have to do.

Thankfully, Kurt seemed to realize that Blaine needed some time to himself, and didn't try to follow him out of the R.V. Blaine's footsteps were dull thuds as he walked slowly along the narrow dock that jutted out into the water, and he sat down at the end, crossing his legs and closing his eyes.

The night was fresh and uncomplicated, the water calm and still, but his head was a mess of threads tangled up in music and movies and sex. Blaine placed his palms either side of him, flat against the wood of the dock in an effort to ground himself and let the anger drain out of him, worm its way through the wood and down into the water where it would dissipate, but the weight of his own unmet expectations pressed down upon him like a tangible weight that he couldn't simply shrug off.

He wasn't surprised when he heard the distinctive click of Kurt's boots approaching.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked from a few paces back. "What's going on?"

Taking a deep lungful of air, Blaine let his eyes slip closed, just briefly, before standing to face him. Quietly, he asked, "What are we?"

Kurt sucked in a breath through his teeth and pinched between his eyes, looking thoroughly sorry that he'd even asked; Blaine's rage crested, and he let the wave take him.

"I'm serious. What are we, why are we doing this? Am I just your safe option because I'm here and willing?"

Kurt dropped his hand and stared him down with a look that made Blaine want to take a step back, but he held his ground. "In what universe would you be anybody's safe option, Blaine?" Kurt spat derisively.

"I'm a pretty safe option for you," Blaine retorted. "It's not like you have to commit to anything with us because you already laid down the rules, right? Only I think I missed the part where you get to go fuck your asshole ex-boyfriend just to prove that all this means nothing to you."

"You can't be serious right now," Kurt said incredulously.

"Oh, I'm deadly serious."

"You really think the reason I did it is to... Fuck, Blaine. Do you even know me at all?"

"You know what? I'm not so sure," Blaine shot back. "Ever since this whole thing started—no, ever since I got back, you've been like a different person."

"That's because I am a different fucking person!" Kurt shouted, throwing his arms out to the sides. "And I said I'm sorry for what I did! What more do you want from me?"

"I honestly don't know anymore," Blaine said, sighing. "I want you to tell me that this is just a road trip thing."

There was a long, awful pause that clamored across the space between them, and then Kurt said quietly, "You're caving."

"Kurt, don't—"

"You're caving; that's what this is all about!" Kurt exclaimed, and Blaine's stomach dropped into his shoes.

"Stop it," Blaine said, walking forward and setting them mere inches apart. "This is about you being selfish and reckless and a complete idiot for thinking any good would ever come of getting back into it with Max fucking Whitley."

"I wasn't getting back into it with him, Jesus!"

"Then what were you doing?"

"I was trying to prove to myself that I wasn't caving!" Kurt screamed.

In the awful, silent seconds that followed, Kurt's eyes widened and he clapped a hand over his mouth. Not knowing what else to do with the peculiar rush that flooded his system, Blaine tore away Kurt's hand and replaced it with his lips; he swallowed Kurt's surprised whimper, licking into his mouth hungrily, and with little finesse. He could feel Kurt's hands flail before settling, one against Blaine's chest and the other molded to his neck.

Kurt's teeth biting almost painfully into Blaine's bottom lip, he realized that underneath it all, Kurt was still the same person—left to his own devices, however, he'd simply gotten better at hiding that person. But Blaine had found the crack in his armor, and he could feel it widening—in that moment, he knew: he could wait.

"Blaine, I—stop for a second, just—"

"Okay, okay, I'm stopping," Blaine breathed, pressing his forehead to Kurt's and cupping his jaw with both hands as they breathed in each other's air.

"I don't want to fight with you," Kurt murmured, his breathing ragged. "That's not us; it's never been us."

"I know, I know," Blaine said quickly, all the fight in him now gone to some far-off place. "I'm sorry, I just got so—"

"I know. I've been putting up with it for seventeen years, remember?" Kurt reminded him in a tentatively wry tone, and Blaine couldn't help but smile. "Can't we just... Be happy, and still have this?"

It doesn't matter if he wasn't caving, Blaine thought. It doesn't matter if he wasn't falling for me. Just that he thought he could be is proof enough. This is what we are, but maybe...

"What you did was really, really shitty," he said.

"I know. And I'm so—"

"But okay."

"Okay?" Kurt asked hesitantly.

"Okay," Blaine said with a shrug. "We can still have this."

"And we—" Kurt stopped, clearing his throat and dropping his gaze for a moment. "We have to remember that we're friends first."

Blaine hesitated. "One condition."

"I'm listening," Kurt said.

"I know you well enough to know that you were safe with—with him," Blaine began, searching Kurt's eyes and receiving a nod. "But, look... We've been going out a lot and sure, we always look out for each other but what happens if one of us isn't around for some reason? What if one of us gets too drunk to remember to be safe?"

"Well, not that I really want to think about that, but sure. It's not impossible," Kurt conceded, shifting from one foot to the other. "What's your condition?"

"If we're doing this, then it's just us," Blaine said. "No one else. Deal?"

"Deal," Kurt agreed, nodding and holding out his index finger for Blaine to hook around his own—their old version of a pinky swear.

Blaine shook his head, and tapped his lips. "Here."

With one eyebrow raised, Kurt stepped forward and sealed the deal with the requisite kiss, settling his arms atop Blaine's shoulders. Blaine immediately pulled him closer, rocking back on his heels and sending himself stumbling off-balance. Not realizing how close they were to the edge of the dock, he simply giggled into Kurt's mouth and set his foot back to steady them, only to send them both tumbling over the side.

The water was an icy assault, but beneath the surface lay silence and a similar sensation to the drift between waking and sleeping—suspension, and a gradual slip-slide into a welcome embrace. Kurt was still holding onto him, their legs tangling as they both tried to right themselves, and with one strong kick, they broke the surface.

"It's fucking f-freezing, oh my god," Kurt hissed, teeth chattering and water running from his hair in shining rivulets. "What the h-hell did you do that f-for?"

Blaine couldn't help it; he took one look at the chagrined expression on Kurt's face and burst out laughing. Kurt punched him in the shoulder.

"It's not f-funny," he insisted, but soon his own reluctant laughter was mingling with Blaine's.

The light of the half-moon was reflecting off the water and casting their surroundings in muted shades of gray and navy, the lake an endless, obsidian depth beneath them. Hands moving slowly through the water, Blaine found Kurt's legs and hooked them around his waist; even through layers of soaked clothing he could still feel the warmth of Kurt's skin. Skin that's still mine, he thought, smiling as he treaded water.

As Kurt's laughter faded into silence and he looked down at Blaine with quiet contemplation, Blaine let himself drop so that the water lapped gently at his chin.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

"Given our current predicament, I'm not so sure," Kurt replied, but the fond crinkle at the corners of his eyes gave away his true answer. "Why do you ask?"

"I wanna try something," Blaine said.

"I don't know about you, but there's no way I can get hard like this," Kurt said. He gestured around them, the tips of his fingers trailing the surface of the water and forming ripples that spread outward.

"There's something I've always wanted to do," Blaine said, and at Kurt's raised eyebrow, he continued, "Kiss underwater."

"Such a romantic," Kurt replied with a roll of his eyes, and Blaine just had enough time to suck in a breath before their lips connected and they dipped below the surface.

They sank slowly, mouths joined and limbs entwined; once again Blaine let the quietness claim him as he focused purely on the thrilling yet somehow odd sensation of it all. Seeming to sense Blaine's reluctance to move his mouth lest he cause either of them to fill up their lungs with water, Kurt took Blaine's face in his hands and gave him his air instead. It made Blaine pleasantly dizzy, and he snaked a lazy hand through the water to tangle his fingers in the drift of Kurt's hair.

It felt like a first breath, and over all too soon as Kurt unwound his legs from Blaine's hips and kicked for the surface.

"Was it everything you imagined it'd be?" he asked, chest heaving in the water and hands trembling against the nape of Blaine's neck.

It was better, Blaine thought, buying himself time by shaking the water from his curls. Licking his lips, he grinned up at Kurt from beneath his water-logged eyelashes, and said, "I think our technique could use work."



Distance: 6,174 miles